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“I’m going to treat this properly, but I want to get you clean first,” he murmured. I could see my face in the mirror. My pale skin was smattered with dirt and muck.
“Now tell me, little girl, does it hurt anywhere else?”
“No. Only the back of my head mainly and my leg,” I replied.
“Does it hurt to stand on it?” he asked worriedly.
“It doesn’t,” I answered quickly.
“Good,” he sighed with relief.
He stood back up and cupped my cheek. I pressed my face into the security of his chest as he kissed the top of my head.
His fingers slid beneath the waistband of my panties, and I stopped breathing for a moment. An electric arc of pleasure catapulted straight to my clit, and it took everything in me to keep myself upright. As if he’d read my mind, his arm wound around my waist in support. He pushed my panties down one side and then the other until they slipped past my hips and all the way to the floor.
He lifted me and carried me straight into the shower. I clutched at him tightly, realizing that he was still fully clothed. He turned it on, taking the brunt of the initial cold blast of water as he sat me down on the bench inside. I leaned against the wall, watching as he pulled the soaked clothes off his body. The water slicked down the muscles of his stomach, dripping to the floor in cascading rivulets. My heart fluttered and my core pulsed, tightening with increasing arousal with every piece of clothing he tossed aside.
By the time he was completely naked, I was trembling. I stood up, meaning to go to him and he rushed toward me, pinning me up against the wall instead.
His cock was hard against my belly.
My pussy was soaked.
His arm wound around my waist, and he lifted me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist as his palm slapped against the tile beside my head. It was cool against my back, which was in stark contrast to the hot water slipping down my shoulders. The steam wrapped around us as he stared into my eyes.
When this had started, I’d been his prisoner and he, my captor. We should have been enemies, but the moment his fingers had drifted against my bare flesh, it had been different.
Now we were lovers.
No. We were more than that. So much more.
We were forever.
I searched those warm brown eyes, seeing something there that I hadn’t dared to see before. I saw the future. A future I wanted.
I arched against him, lifting my chin and seeking out his kiss. This time, neither of us were tentative with each other. He kissed me roughly and it hurt, but I didn’t care.
This wasn’t punishment. This was pure need. This was about him taking everything from me because he needed it and I wanted him to.
I didn’t care about the way my lips throbbed by the time he pulled away. It didn’t bother me that the hand wrapping around my throat would probably leave a mark that I’d find in the morning.
I wanted it all.
I slid my fingers up the line of his arm, tracing along the curving plane of his bicep. Up. Up until I wrapped my arms around his neck. My hand splayed across his back, and he growled with ferocity that reminded me of a rabid beast.
“I need you, Mila. I know I should be gentle with you, but I don’t think I can hold back. Not this time. I need…” He tapered off. His inner struggle was written all over his face.
I reached for him, running my fingers over the stubble that shadowed his chin.
“Don’t be. You won’t break me,” I whispered.
“Not this time,” he growled.
“Jon. Fuck me. Fuck me the way you need. I don’t care if it hurts because I need you to fuck me too,” I begged.
His chest rose and fell as he searched my gaze. For a long moment, he stared at me, trying to assess if I was healthy enough for it.
“I’m not going to snap like a twig,” I snarled, rocking my hips against his cock. His expression turned stormy, darkening with his desire, and driving me wild with its intensity. He practically seethed against me, still holding himself back.
